


Stay with me.

by gangfriend



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Caring, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, POV Beth Boland, POV Rio (Good Girls), Protective Rio (Good Girls), Romantic Fluff, Soft Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27328387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gangfriend/pseuds/gangfriend
Summary: Just a moody lil piece where Beth tends to Rio's wounds.  Set post 2x04.--"Tonight though, he couldn’t give a fuck if he tried. He wanted her, and denying that seemed pointless in the grand scheme of his life and current pain.   The only thing on his mind was how the house always smelled like cinnamon. He wanted to know what scent of hand lotion was set out on her bedside table. He wanted to see concern melt over her big, blue eyes and smell the floral scent of her strawberry hair."
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 33
Kudos: 227





	1. Rio

Watching the highway lines disappear numbed the pain throbbing from his temple, but not nearly enough. His knuckles were bleeding, his ribs ached. The air conditioner was on too high, making his eyes burn, but turning it off would mean plunging the car into silence and that didn’t feel like something either of them wanted.

Mick knew him better than anyone, and that’s not saying much, he held his cards pretty close to his chest, but Mick had known him since they were kids. They came up together, had each other’s backs and Mick would give him shit when he deserved it. He almost always deserved it.

Now, as they hurtled down the highway, a black cloud of spite hung in the air. He had acted out, kicked the shit out of someone, hadn’t been smart. Mick was fine with their pecking order as long as Rio was careful with his power, made smart choices, and more and more he had been acting out of impulse. That invincible shark-smiling kid who thrived on violence and gin was long gone and every day he felt more tired.

Hell, he’d given his life to be on top but he was getting restless. The guys in this game were always the same, and putting them in their place was an old song and dance. People were fake, predictable, it pissed him off. He felt a creeping desire to create chaos, just to feel something. He knew Mick could sniff it on him.

He sat, head against the cool window, waiting for some biting remark. He silently went over retorts in his head and they both stewed, eyes forward, unmoving. The scolding never came though and somehow that was worse.

“Rhea's?”

Rio gave a slight shake of his head, and they sped past her exit. He wasn’t getting any younger and shit – his go-to of drinking himself into oblivion alone wasn’t cuttin' it anymore. When things got messy, he'd taken habit in showing up on Rhea’s doorstep. She’d clean him up, drink with him, and every so often let him into her bed. He liked the way the house smelled like incense and he liked tiptoeing through the hallway to the beat of Marcus’ soft snoring. It felt like home, it felt like safety. Lately, the thrill of winning, of money, of substantiated notoriety hadn't been enough to drown out the aches in his body. When his knuckles were bloody, he found himself craving the care of someone who gave a shit about him. He wanted comfort - a good night’s sleep even.

Damn. He really was getting old.

But he didn’t want Rhea tonight. He knew there was a dark entry way waiting for him, a creak of floor boards and a lone light shining over a kitchen island. He knew she’d be awake with that forlorn look in her eyes as she absentmindedly nursed a bourbon.

He liked Elizabeth. A lot. More than he was willing to admit to anyone, himself included. 

She was the physical embodiment of that creeping chaos. She was different than anyone he’d ever met.

Elizabeth was bold but soft. Her eyes were big and honest, but her lips spouted lies and misdirection. He wanted to push her to her limits but he also wanted to protect her. He wanted desperately to one up her, to beat her at this game they were playing but he also wanted to know what her go-to karaoke song was, what she was like in high-school and what she looked like when she was asleep. It was thrilling and confusing. He was addicted to it.

The day they met, Rio'd rolled out of bed greeted by mid-day sunlight and a number of angry missed calls. He was hungover, and the Fine and Frugal robbery was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He couldn’t give a shit, the manager was a weasel, and there was nothing special about that grungy place. Now they had to handle the low lifes that'd robbed the joint? Give me a fuckin’ break.

He braced himself for a bunch of dumb ass kids, but when Mick finally got him on the phone and said the address was in Royal Oak… now that was interesting.

It only got more interesting from there. _The pearls, the bathroom_ , Elizabeth kept surprising him, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse but either way it always felt like breathing fresh air.

Now, given their history, it was without a doubt a bad idea to even _fantasize_ about Beth witnessing him in such a state. Tonight though, he couldn’t give a fuck if he tried. He wanted her, and denying that seemed pointless in the grand scheme of his life and current pain. The only thing on his mind was how the house always smelled like cinnamon. He wanted to know what scent of lotion was set out on her bedside table. He wanted to see concern melt over her big, blue eyes and smell the floral scent of her strawberry hair.

Mick’s blinker shook Rio out of his haze. They were almost at his place. He had been planning on driving to Elizbeth’s on his own later but the thought of reaching his arms up to the wheel made him wince.

And why not stir the pot a bit. 

“Nah. Go to Elizabeth's”

Mick whipped his head around to face him for the first time since they pulled out of the warehouse. Rio smiled, twisting the knife deeper being one of his favorite moves.

“You sure about that man?”

The sincerity in Mick’s voice caught them both off guard.

“Fuck you mean? ‘Course I’m sure.” There was really no need to spit venom in response, but Rio wanted a fight. It was better, easier, than this “concerned for you” shit that Mick was pulling right now.

“She home?”

“Should be. “

Mick gave him a hard side-eye as they parked on the curb.

“Got somethin to say?” He was silently willing his friend to give him shit. Baiting him.

Mick said nothing. He just shook his head, lips in a firm line, as he came to the driver’s side to help Rio out.

They hobbled up the driveway, and sure enough, there was a light coming from the kitchen.

* * *

He clocked the exact moment Beth’s eyes processed his silhouette in the doorway. Mick had stepped back, hanging by the front door.

“No.”

Rio’s lips curled into a sly smile. He had predicted this reaction, and it brought him comfort just to see it play out.

“No. No. Whatever this is… no.”

Mick grunted and opened the door to leave.

Beth threw her hands in the air in theatrical frustration, but her eyes were taking him in. He noticed her cringe slightly at the sight of his bloodied face.

A couple moments passed, as she stood, hands on hips, defiant.

“Come. Sit.”

There was purpose in how she strut back to the kitchen counter, yanking down the bourbon and sliding it over to him. 

Rio leaned heavily on the counter, balancing his weight and moving himself into a painful squat atop her kitchen stool. She followed him with her eyes, brows creased in confusion. They'd tricked and taunted one another relentlessly, and he knew she was sifting through the possibility that this visit was some sort of play, something to throw her off. He could hear the wheels in her head turning, the calculation of risks playing out on her face. 

He didn’t know where to begin in signifying he only wanted to trace her lips with his fingers, only wanted to notice her nail polish while her soft hands tended his wounds.

His eyes must have communicated something of a truce because eventually Beth made her way over to him. Standing between his legs, she examined his bruised face and lifted his tan palms in hers, tsking as ran her fingers over each knuckle.

“Don’t drink that.” She pushed the bourbon on the counter top.

“Cuse me?”

“I have um… There is some .. there’s some left over from when Dean was umm... Dean’s injury..”

Rio’s head tilted, not following, but she had already scurried off to the bedroom ensuite. He could hear bottles shifting and cabinets being closed.

"I have Dilauded." She presented a small white pill.

“Damn ma, you’ve been holdin’ out on me.”

“It should help with the pain.”

Rio raised his eyebrows in amusement as he swallowed the pill. Looks like puttin' a bullet in ol' Dean has it perks.s

She had disappeared again and after some rummaging, came back into view with a first aid kit. The kit was a mess, it was spilling over with cartoon band-aids and miscellaneous used creams. 

He leaned his head back in relief now that he could finally surrender to her care Now that he had manifested this reckless daydream.

“Your husband home?”

“No.”

“Kids?”

She shook her head, not taking her eyes off his hands as she gently patted them down with peroxide. Once his face and fingers were clean, she handed him Polysporin and spun around to pace in the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?” She hesitated as if remembering. “Tea?” 

Her hair was loose and tucked behind her ears, the curls having fallen throughout the day. She was dressed in jeans and a soft looking maroon sweater. The sight of her caused a warm sensation to spread and drip through his veins, and he thought briefly that perhaps there was no place he'd rather be than in her cinnamon house. Nothing he'd rather do than listen to the gurgle of a coffee machine under her careful watch. 

Maybe it was just that pain pill he’d popped, turning his brain to soup.

“Tea’d be nice.”

Beth smiled slightly and went to work pouring a pot of coffee while filling up the kettle. She topped her coffee off with a healthy pour of bourbon and sipped, continuing to eye him over the brim of her mug.

“Take off your shirt.” She jutted her chin at him from across the counter.

Rio nodded and started un-doing the buttons, wincing a bit as his fingers folded and flexed.

Beth, watching him still, cocked her head to the side expectantly. He could tell that he had been a little too compliant, a little too quiet and it had caught her off guard. 

“Gotta do what the nurse says right?”

“There it is.” She rolled her eyes at the comment. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh no, I’m already imaginin’ a variety of uniforms.”

She snorted a laugh but her face fell soft as she watched this strange, bloody strip tease unfold. The kettle whistled, cutting through their heavy atmosphere.

Rio peeled the rest of his shirt off his shoulders and revealed a gash in his shoulder. Whatever clot had formed was ripped anew and blood started to gush.

“Jesus Christ, Rio. You should really go to th-“

“Can’t.”

Beth scrambled to grab a cloth and pressed it to his shoulder, standing over him.

“You’re gonna need stitches. “

“Can you do that?”

“No!” Beth laughed nervously, short and a little too loud.

“Thought you were crafty.” His voice comes in a low strain.

“I sew… I’ve never sewed up a … -

The blood was coming fast and she gripped near the nape of his neck with her free hand as she pushed the cloth harder to his shoulder. His face was almost nuzzled into her neck with the angle they were both positioned. Her chin rested on the top of his head.

…a person. “

A moment passed while Beth registered their proximity. She cleared her throat. He could hear her hard swallow.

“Why did you come here?” It was almost a whisper. Her hand on the cloth shifted as she repositioned, continuing to press down firmly, pulling them closer ever so slightly.

“You aint gonna ask me what happened?”

“Would you answer if I did?”

He grunted.

“Buddy here brought a knife to a gun fight.”

“I see that.” She was gingerly removing the cloth while preparing more peroxide. “This will sting.”

Rio tried to tense his body in preparation, but he knew she felt him shudder under her grasp.

“Where is he now?” Beth wasn’t making eye contact as she worked away, swiping a cotton ball softly over his shoulder.

“Who?”

“Buddy.” Her voice clipped and sarcastic. “You said it was a gun fight.”

“You really think I go around shootin’ people up all day long doncha?”

She breathed long out her noise, and shook a bottle of amber liquid. It looked old, a little retro, the label long since peeled away.

“Well if I actually knew what you did all day…you don’t give me much to go off so… “

The stillness in the house had wrapped around them. Beth's brow set in a serious, focused furrow.

“So, why did you come to me?”

His ma always told him nothin’ good ever happened after 1 am. It was her feeble attempt to keep him on the straight and narrow when he was a kid. It didn’t last long and besides that, he also found that his ma had been wrong. He loved hours in the early morning. He liked driving down a highway at 3 am, the once busy streets ghostly still and abandoned. He found 2 to 5 am to be a time that was never quite rooted in reality. It had that surreal fever-like quality and sometimes he’d stay awake in his loft, looking down at the Detriot skyline through his window, just to feel it.

The microwave blinked 1:30. The open window in Beth’s living room carried a breeze through the kitchen, where they stood like actors in a tableau. The kitchen encasing them in a spotlight. He wanted to breath her in, their chests rising and falling in unison, until the sun rose and broke their spell.

“I wanted to see ya.” He rasped, barely audible.

She smiled, looking down at him through her eyelashes.

“Ya? And bleed all over my kitchen?”

Rio hoisted himself up, standing nose to nose with Beth. The last thing he heard was her breath hitch as he leaned down and pressed his lips to her temple. It was slow and soft and _fuck…_ he really shouldn’t be here.

“Ya.”

Maybe nothing good did happen after 1 am.

Maybe he was just high.

There was silence for a while before Beth pulled away, pretending to examine her work.

“With the blood gone, this actually looks pretty shallow. I think you’ll be fine as long as you let it heal. “

“Cool”

“You can take the bed, I sleep fine in Jane’s room.”

He nodded, eyes still fixed on her as she started to gather up the first aid mess.

She put their mugs in the sink and flicked off the kitchen light.

“Elizabeth”. He hadn’t moved from his standing position by the stool while Beth had shuffled nervously around.

“Thank you.”

She nodded, eyes searching his, then turned to climb the stairs.

In the dark, Rio made his way to the master bedroom. He clicked on the lamp and his eyes shifted down to her bedside table. The ornate glass bottle read "Lavender. Enriched with shea butter." 

He smiled to himself and crawled into bed. 


	2. Elizabeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on tumblr now as 00gangfriend00. I am very much so still figuring out how to use it and I refuse to ask my students. So please follow me and be nice as there is no good content. I can offer you nothing.

Beth exhaled, leaning back on Jane’s closed bedroom door as she pushed the racing thoughts from her mind. _Wait. Wait until you get in bed._ She robotically went through the motions of undressing and brushing her teeth with Jane’s tiny Frozen toothbrush as she willed her thoughts to slow. _Wait._

Finally, after collapsing into the small floral bed, Beth squeezed her eyes shut and mentally pulled up a list.

Reasons Why I Do Not Have Feelings For Rio.

She pulled up this list often, and its effectiveness was waning but surely, SURELY it had to be long list.

Beth took a shaky yet determined breath. Tonight, she would focus on adding items. There should be 100 reasons why her insides have no right be twisting with such a sticky, warm glow. Right!? Her skin should absolutely not be burning and prickling with electricity wherever his hands had grazed, or where his lips had touched. _He kissed your forehead…_

_Focus._

Reasons Why I Do Not Have Feelings For Rio.

One, easy, he shot Dean. _But it’s not like he killed him…_

Two, he’s a criminal. _So are you._

No, he’s a dangerous criminal. He’s killed people. He killed Eddie right after he dumped his bloody body in this very bed. _If he was going to hurt you, he would have already._

Three, how many times as he held a gun to your head? _He’s just teaching you, testing you._

Four, you don’t mean anything to him. You’re just a game to him.

This last point on The List always steeled her resolve. The other items should matter, they should shake her to her core. Guilt came surging hot into her throat whenever she considered just how much they _didn’t_ make a difference _,_ or worse, how much they worked to the opposite effect in drumming up enticement or thrill. However, that last one was always effective in shutting down her girlish daydreams. It was the mantra she would repeat when her eyes started tracing the lines of jaw or whenever she found herself wondering if he liked his mother’s cooking, if there was a book he'd give anything to read again for the first time. 

_You’re a game. He gets off on messing with you._

_He probably laughs behind your back._

_He thinks you’re some bored housewife._

When Beth needed to focus, when she needed to pull herself back to reality and make good choices, she’d allow her mind to mix Rio’s image with various infuriating memories just to drive the point home

In 9th grade, Bradley used to walk her home. He never judged her for where she lived and was always sweet to Annie. She liked him, so when they kissed and he slid his hands up her top, which was newly (and embarrassingly) filled out, she didn’t stop him. Later, she found out he’d made 10 bucks in a bet to see if he could “honk her tits”. It had all been a ruse.

If she ever thought about losing her virginity to Dean, rage would coarse through her veins. It had been a fumbled backseat romp, one that she’d given into because of his kind eyes and the shallow promises of their future together. However, when they walked in the hallways a couple days later, Dean was met with a round of high fives from various members of the football team. “It’s just locker room stuff! Everyone talks like that in there Bethie.”

No. She exists for no man’s amusement. Not anymore. 

But Rio is no Bradley, and he certainly is no Dean. They’re desperate need for validation, their blatant self-aggrandized manipulation… If she was being honest, there wasn’t an ounce of that in Rio.

And maybe it was time to be honest with herself. The more she got to know Rio, the more her mantra grew obsolete. Each day that passed, she felt herself inching closer to the admission of desire. She was slowly sinking in that honey river that swelled in her chest each time he looked at her. She was drowning in it. Her castle of willpower was crumbling brick by brick, succumbing to his easy confidence. The protective fortress she’d built around herself was falling fast.

_“I’ll teach you”_

_“I think you could be somethin’”_

_“Nah, you’re way more interesting than that”_

_“Don’t go putting that stuff in your face, you don’t need it”_

Each time he softly tucked her hair behind her ear or smiled proudly in her direction, bricks fell and shattered. There was a knot in her stomach whispering that he respected her, he saw her, he liked her – he always has.

_“Homeboys caught feelin’s”_

_“B, do not get me started. Don't pretend like you don't see the way he looks at you.”_

_“He_ likes _you. Like_ like _likes_ you”

And now? Now what?

How did this evening fit into their box-step , their push and pull game?

He was hurt and he’d sought out her care. There had been no bravado, no swagger, just a man in pain. This showcase of vulnerability, this honesty, it went against their unspoken rulebook...but, she supposes, so did leading him to the bar bathroom with no intention of talking. Where did it all leave them?

Did he always think of her when he was hurt? Was she someone he found comfort in?

All she knows is that she likes holding his gaze. She likes the contrast of black ink on his smooth, caramel skin, their easy banter and the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs.

* * *

A gray haze shone through Jane’s lace curtains as the sun slowly rose. It was 5 am, and Beth hadn’t even closed her eyes. Her body was too wired to rest, her mind was still spinning.

She may as well get out of bed and make herself useful. The knowledge of Rio’s presence in her bedroom felt like a burning hole in her mind, the way money burns in one’s pockets, and she was certain sleep wouldn’t come as long as she was aware of him. He was there, right now – just one floor below. She couldn't decide if she was giddy or frantic. 

After quietly padding downstairs into the dawn-lit kitchen, she put some coffee on and stood for a long while warming her hands on her mug. Her bare feet chilly on the cool tiled floor. She loved the early morning, she loved the fresh smell of dew and the slow break of the night’s silence. It had long been her time for peace, her time to think.

Beth busied herself cleaning. She made a quick breakfast of eggs and checked off a few items on her to-do list. She tried reading, she tried meal planning, tried to catching up on the news on her Kindle – after a couple minutes of each she would start to pace again, the bedroom simmering away in her thoughts.

She could walk in there right now. The rising sun was probably streaming in through the windows, softly lighting up the bed. If she slid next to his warm body and pressed her forehead to his chest, she had a feeling he would just drape a lazy arm around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he'd been expecting her. 

That’s how it felt in the moments they were alone together. It felt as though they had known one another from a past life and had simply found each other in the present. It didn’t matter how or why they’d met, that they’d tried to kill or steal from one another – they were simply drawn together. She had found him in this life and she would find him in the next, always two sides of the same coin.

Sometime, around 9AM , Beth started to grasp the reality that he would eventually wake up in her home and host-mode inevitably kicked in. His clothes were covered in blood, he had no towels, no tooth brush – she had work to do.

Taking a deep breath, she slid the bedroom door silently open. Stealth: one of the many Mom superpowers. It should be no different from creeping in on her sleeping children except this time she was actively trying to avoid staring at the curve of his spine exposed in her bedsheets.

He was facedown in the bed and it looked like he hadn’t bothered to remove his jeans. Beth was mesmerized as she watched his shoulders rise and fall. He was gripping a pillow and for some reason the sight of this made her heart ache with the intimacy of it all. She snatched his shirt - which was... _folded_ neatly on the dresser- _who are you? -_ and laid down towels near the bed and placed an extra toothbrush on top - she always kept extras for sleepovers with forgetful kids.

A couple hours later Beth heard the shower start up. Her heart leaped in her throat.

“Mornin’”

“It’s 11am.”

“Yeah, someone got me all drugged up so I guess I was out cold.” He was shirtless, jeans on, his hair was still damp and she could barely breath.

“I washed your shirt.” She tossed it to him, trying desperately to appear casual. 

He cocked his head, amused, examining it.

“Bloods gone..”

“Hydrogen peroxide and vinegar.”

He made an impressed face and started buttoning.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“I’s good. Tried not to sleep on it.”

That would explain the face-down flop positioning.

There was a beat as they watched one another, Beth suddenly conscious of her yoga pants and oversized knit sweater.

“You hungry or what? Whaddaya say we get some breakfast up in here?”

“Oh I’m sorry, Hotel Boland ends their breakfast promptly at 9am.”

“I was thinkin’ I’d get something delivered. You want coffee?”

“Your boys deliver you coffee now?”

“Yeah… my boys..” He rolled his eyes, flashing her his UberEats app. “You a Starbucks girl or what?”

Beth leaned over the kitchen island where he had resumed sitting in the same stool as the night prior. She peeked over his phone.

"Check and see if Café Le Matin delivers. It’s a local spot, they always donate to the school for raffles.”

“Got ‘em.”

“Get some scones. The cranberry is super good.”

Rio flashed his eyes up to her, affection and amusement dancing around in his irises.

“Aight, got some scones. Whachu want for coffee?”

“Ummm.. A latte”

“Okay, what kinda milk you want?”

“What do you mean? I want milk….”

“Yah but like, what kind you want?”

‘Cow…?”

Rio tsked. “That shits just for baby cows ma, aint no good for you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He raised his eyebrows in a manner that indicated he was in fact, very serious.

“Ok umm… what are my options?”

“There’s almond milk, soymilk…”

“Almonds fine.”

“Bad for the environment though.” 

Beth threw her hands up in mock exasperation. “Okay I’ll have what you have. What are you ordering?”

“Tea.”

Rio’s face slid into laughter, a joyful, natural burst that had him tilting his head back.

Beth watched him, feeling nostalgic for a moment that had not yet passed. After having spent the night so anxious for what was to come – so exhaustively turning over her morals and her choices, examining her feelings – it felt so good to give in to his laughter. She felt so content in just letting go. This moment was _easy_. Why couldn’t it just be easy?

“Nah, I’m just playin. I usually get oat milk, you’d like it.”

“Whatever you say.” They were smiling stupidly at one another.

A couple hours passed in the same manner. They drank their coffees, talked about this and that. She often made him laugh which caused pride and satisfaction to bloom and spread in her chest. 

Eventually a black van pulled up on the street. They both knew what it meant, the spell was broken. Beth shuffled around, filling the silence by going on and on about how to treat his wounds like she was some doctor and he was some child.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her heart started to pound. The List was flashing in her mind. Had she slipped up, drinking coffee with him like they were two neighbors catching up? Crushing on him like she was a teenager again? Seducing him in pulsing bars with dirty bathrooms? Was she too comfortable?? Would she get hurt?

Bradley, Dean, all the countless sneering, jeering men in her life paraded in pictures through her thoughts.

“Rio.”

His head snapped at the use of his name.

“Did you tell anyone..."

Her voice came out small and nervous. She resented the sound, but the strength was in the asking. 

"...about the bar?"

Rio walked forward until they were chest to chest, so close she was sure that he could feel her heart beating. She blushed as he looked seriously into her eyes.

He was quiet for a long time.

‘That Deans been real dick, hasn’t he?”

It was always as though he could read her mind, know her thoughts like they were written on her skin. It was one of the reasons one-upping him was so satisfying, so she was used to it by now … but it still gave her chills. 

She nodded.

“Nah, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Beth’s body relaxed.

“I mean, technically…”

The words were tumbling out before she could regret them.

“… we didn’t kiss.”

“Oh, is that right?”

And they both knew what was coming. They could feel it humming between their bodies, screaming in their ears. Maybe they’d known all morning. Maybe they’d known since he stumbled in the doorway bleeding,

Rio ran his palm through her hair, cradling her head, pulling her in. His thumb stroking her jaw. He waited for her. Eyes peering down at her lips. Their breath between them.

This was it. This was the threshold – the point of no return. 

_Fuck._ Beth tilted her head up and pressed her lips against his. His reaction was immediate and he bumped her backwards until her hips hit the island counter top. He smelt like sleep and her own shampoo, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he deepened their kiss. It was soft yet urgent, slow but hungry. She knew she was making stupid, desperate noises but the need to have him even closer, impossibly closer, was taking over. Without breaking their kiss, he gripped her thighs and hoisted her on to the counter.

She was frantically tugging at his collar buttons when a car honked loud outside.

Rio smiled against her lips. He laughed softly and out of breath as he leaned against her forehead, pushing his nose playfully against hers.

“Guess my rides getting’ impatient.” He gave her ass a regretful “to be continued” squeeze and lifted her down from the counter.

Beth didn’t say a word, didn’t exhale, as watched him put on his shoes and turn to give her one final look before he opened the door to leave.

"See you around yah? "

The sun was high in the sky, lighting up in kitchen in mid-day light. Beth stood there for several minutes taking in the twin coffee cups and the plate that had been pushed askew in order to make room for her. She clocked a small smudge of blood on the underside on the granite. 

How was it that in just 12 hours she could be so completely turned inside out? 

Exhaustion crashed into her body as she made her way to her bedroom - eager to finally find sleep. 

Her bedsheets smelled like him. She gripped the same pillow to her chest.

A different List was running through her mind as she fell fast asleep. 

Reasons Why I Have Feelings For Rio. 

That kiss was damn near at the top. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kitchen is the third character in this fic. I love kitchen moments, and I love kitchens. 
> 
> I was listening to "every time when the sun comes up" by Sharon Van Etten while writing this if you want the full auditory experience. Its a gorgeous song. 
> 
> <3 Thank you oh so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoyed.


End file.
